


Scholar's Mate

by Endgames



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Humor, One Shot Collection, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-20 13:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2430683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endgames/pseuds/Endgames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What could have happened if people were a little smarter? Or just a little different? My collection of one-shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Marauder's Map

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Did neither the escaped convict nor the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor think to cast a stunner on the captured rat-animagus Death Eater prior to transporting him? Then I don't own Harry Potter.
> 
> The recognizable parts are obviously from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

Harry Potter walked back to Gryffindor tower in a daze. He was feeling understandably discombobulated from all the events throwing themselves at him at the end of term. Harry had chased down Sirius Black, nearly killed him, knocked out Snape, witnessed Pettigrew's return from the dead, almost died from dementors, traveled through time, saved himself from said dementors, and now said goodbye to his favorite Defense instructor. He was suitably distracted when walking through the halls, but his mind kept returning to the blank piece of parchment folded up in his pocket.

Harry walked through the Gryffindor common room quickly. He briefly stopped to let Ron and Hermione know that Lupin was already on his way out of Hogwarts. He brushed off Dean and Seamus, who were wondering why Harry and Ron hadn't been back to the tower last night. Obviously, Ron and Hermione hadn't said anything about it either. Harry managed get up to his dorm room by saying he had a couple of last-minute items to pack in his trunk.

The dorm room was mercifully empty. Harry sat cross-legged on his bed, unfolded the Marauder's Map, and placed it in front of him. The Weasley twins had given him the map and shown him how to work it. Ironically enough, however, it had been Snape who had shown him the full scope of the parchment’s potential. He cast his mind back to the rather worrisome quarter-hour he had spent in Snape’s office after getting caught in Hogsmeade…

"Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!"

His breath catching in his throat, Harry pulled out his wand and held it over the blank parchment. He took a deep breath. Shaking with anticipation, and feeling a little stupid, he touched his wand to the map's surface and said simply, "Hi Dad." Harry eagerly leaned closer as the parchment surface began to darken with spidery script.

   _"Mr. Moony admonished Mr. Padfoot for inflicting his progeny upon the world."_

Harry threw back his head laughing. He then looked back eagerly as more writing appeared.

   _"Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Mooney, and would like to register an 'I told you so' regarding Mr. Padfoot's promiscuous ways."_

   _"Mr. Padfoot would like to remind his fellow Marauders of his proficiency with the Contraceptive Charm, and point out it would be far more likely that Mr. Wormtail would fail at casting that particular one."_

   _"Mr. Wormtail expresses his paternal hope, as that would mean he had at least managed to bed a girl at some point."_

Harry felt slightly queasy at the final implications there. He quickly touched his wand to the map again and said, "No, no. My name is Harry Potter. Prongs is my father." The parchment quickly cleared and more writing appeared.

   _"Mr. Padfoot expresses his congratulations to Mr. Prongs, as well as relief at his own lack of offspring."_

   _"Mr. Moony redirects his admonishment to Mr. Prongs for bringing about another generation of quidditch-obsessed little fawns."_

   _"Mr. Wormtail offers his condolences to Harry for having to deal with Mr. Prongs as a father."_

   _"Mr. Prongs defends his parenting skills, but would like to inquire as to the identity of Harry's mother."_

Harry chuckled at Moony's comment, realizing how true it is. He started to wonder when the Marauders made the map, and if his father had gotten together with his mother at that point. His throat feeling slightly blocked, Harry coughed, and then said, "Lily Evans was my mother."

   _"Mr. Prongs would like to smugly rub these doubters' faces in living proof that he married his favorite flower."_

   _"Mr. Padfoot feels disappointed that his rakish looks never managed to tempt said flower away from Mr. Prongs."_

   _"Mr. Wormtail would like to note that a child is not absolute proof of marriage, and would like to question Harry on the past tense indicative regarding his mother."_

   _"Mr. Mooney holds on to the hope that Harry's mother had the greater influence when raising him, or he would fear for the wizarding world on its second generation of Marauders."_

Harry's throat clenched further. How could he explain to whatever amount of personality his father and his friends had imbued into this parchment that one is dead, along with his wife, one is responsible for their deaths, and one is an escaped convict? Harry quickly tapped the map with his wand, saying "Mischief managed."

As he got up to head back down to the common room, Harry experienced a similar sensation to the time he had left the room containing the Mirror of Erised. He wanted so badly to talk with his father, but the jokes expressed by all of the Marauders could hardly be construed as a meaningful conversation. As he rejoined his friends downstairs, Harry knew he'd be thinking about it a lot over the summer. He sincerely hoped that communication via wand taps would not register with the Improper Use of Magic Office.


	2. The Alternative Marauder's Map

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Was Harry planning on killing Sirius Black with his wand despite not knowing any destructive spells at that point? Then I don't own Harry Potter.
> 
> The recognizable parts are obviously from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

Snape picked up the folded parchment that had been in Potter's pocket. "Surely you don't need such a very old piece of parchment?" he said. "Why don't I just - throw this away?" He moved his hand toward the fire.

"No!" Potter said quickly.

"So!" said Snape, his long nostrils quivering. "Is this another treasured gift from Mr. Weasley? Or is it - something else? A letter, perhaps, written in invisible ink? Or - instructions to get into Hogsmeade without passing the dementors?"

Potter blinked. Snape smirked. He hadn't even needed to use legilimency; Potter was just that easy to read. The boy was still standing in front of Snape's desk with sweat beading on his brow and muddy hands, now out of his pockets. He had obviously been to Hogsmeade, thrown mud at Draco, and then run back to the castle, trying to pretend he'd been here all along. It was exactly the same kind of thing the elder Potter would have done back in his Hogwarts days, and Snape was usually the victim then. Good thing he had run into Potter before Potter could clean up the evidence of his crimes.

"Let me see, let me see...," Snape muttered, taking out his wand while unfolding and smoothing the parchment out on his desk. " _Aparecium._ " he said, tapping the parchment multiple times in different places. No invisible ink or other concealed marks made themselves known. " _Specialis Revelio._ " he incanted, passing his wand back and forth over the parchment. Though usually used to determine potions ingredients, it would show the constituents of any item not specifically guarded against it. Only paper and ink was present in the object. Snape briefly considered calling Lupin in to take a look at the item, as he had some practical experience in secrecy spells from his work with the Order. He then laughed internally at that notion. Snape had caught Potter red-handed, and he wasn't about to let the werewolf get him out of trouble.

Nothing was showing up from the two most useful revealing spells, indicating that the manufacturer had some talent. Many items used to transmit hidden messages back during the days of the war had built in traps that would react to discovery. Giving his wand a discrete wave, Snape silently brought up a shield around himself. "Reveal your secret!" he commanded, forcing his magic into the item and willing it to demystify the parchment.

Nothing happened, but Snape sensed a slightly unnerving feeling of amusement from the parchment. Angry now, he hit the parchment with his wand, forcing even more magic into it, intent this time on breaking whatever charm shielded the information in the parchment from viewers. "Show yourself!" he said accusingly, more out of frustration than for any magical reason.

Nothing continued to be present on the surface of the parchment, but Snape had felt something odd. His magic carrying his will had branched from the parchment and gone into the floor of the castle itself. The return echo of his magic bore the same familiar feeling that Snape secretly relished every time he returned to Hogwarts from an extended absence. Though not sentient, the castle was warm and inviting, as well as protective. This map was connected in some way to Hogwarts, though he knew it could not have been any founder's object based on the deterioration rate of parchment. Still, the wards, secret passages, staircases, house elves, and portraits at least responded to the headmaster, even if they weren't bound to obey him. Snape briefly considered contacting Dumbledore to force the issue, but refrained for the same reasons as he avoided bringing in Lupin. The headmaster was far too soft on the little troublemaker.

Snape paused for a moment and closed his eyes. He was a talented Occlumens, experienced at misleading even the Dark Lord into believing Snape was a loyal Death Eater, when he had already converted to Dumbledore's side. However, he had not tried on this guise before, and so, took a moment to gather his thoughts. He wrapped the curtain of absolute certainty that he was the headmaster of Hogwarts around his mind and touched his wand to the parchment again. "Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal." Snape intoned, imitating Dumbledore's manner, if not his voice.

He jerked his hand back immediately. Thin, spidery writing was beginning to appear on the parchment and his mind immediately jumped to the diary that Dumbledore had informed him of last year. The amusement he had sensed from the object made more sense now; there was actual sentience in the parchment, not just a simple charm. He raised his wand, about to cast a containment field used to temporarily block effects from dark objects, when the meaning of the appearing words finally registered in his mind.

   _"Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business."_

Snape's eyes blazed. Lupin! Of all the people who could give information secretly to Potter, it had to be Lupin! Of course he recognized the pseudonym. The senior Potter and his friends hadn't been exactly subtle when they called each other by those stupid names all of the time.

_"Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git."_

Ah, so this wasn't a recently made item. The age of the parchment now makes more sense. The idiots must have made this back in their school days. Of course, James Potter's sense of humor hadn't changed since first year, so there was no way to narrow the date down further.

   _"Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor."_

Snape glanced surreptitiously at the Potter standing across the desk from him. His face was rigid and his eyes were closed. He was probably trying to avoid laughing so he wouldn't get into more trouble.

   _"Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball."_

Potter snuck off to Hogsmeade despite Black being on the loose. Potter attacked Malfoy in Hogsmeade. Potter ran back to the castle to try to play off being innocent. And now, Potter was carrying an item from his father that had the gall to insult him. We'll see about that...

" _Incendio._ " Snape incanted calmly, watching Potter's face. Potter's eyes snapped open, horror etched on his features as the parchment burned. In just seconds, the large amount of paper was reduced to ash. Snape felt a cruel sense of satisfaction from how distraught Potter would be at losing a possession of his father's.

"Detention, here, tomorrow. And detention every Hogsmeade weekend after this." Snape said. He binned the Zonko's bag as he pushed Potter out of his office. "You'll not be sneaking out to the village again."


	3. The Prophecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Did Arthur Weasley work to restrict wizards from enchanting items just because they might be found in a Muggle household? Then I don't own Harry Potter.
> 
> The prophecy wording is obviously from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and some of the dialog adapted from Prisoner of Azkaban.
> 
> My thanks for this chapter (as well as the previous two) go to my wonderful beta and fiancée, Snowyiris129.

Severus Snape stifled a yawn as he leaned against the wall outside one of the Hog’s Head’s private rooms. He was disillusioned and, as an extra precaution, covered with a Demiguise-hair invisibility cloak. Although Silencing Charms had been applied to every stitch of clothing, as well as over his face, he still instinctively covered his mouth with his hand. For several weeks now, the dark-haired youth had been shadowing Albus Dumbledore every time the Headmaster stepped outside of Hogwarts. Of course, with floo, apparition, and that damnable phoenix, this was something of an exercise in futility. Snape had finally managed to deduce Dumbledore’s Wizengamot work routine, and had hypothesized a recent burning day for his phoenix due to an increased apparition rate.

Today, for whatever reason, Dumbledore had decided to walk from the gates of Hogwarts down to Hogsmeade. Snape had followed the Headmaster as distantly as was practical, but hastened his steps when he saw the old wizard turn into the Hog’s Head. Aberforth was a known collaborator with his brother in the repression of the Dark Lord’s crusade. Snape had hoped to overhear valuable information from a meeting between the two, so he was understandably disappointed when the visit turned out to be for a simple job interview.

Snape suppressed another yawn as the bartender walked by. He mentally scoffed at the ravings he picked up with his listening charm on the door jamb. The prospective Divination professor sounded like she belonged in a street stall rather than an academic environment. He watched Aberforth walk back towards the bar, hoping that the Dumbledore brothers would at least have a few words together after this farce of a job interview.

_“THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES…”_

Snape started violently from the loud, harsh voice that suddenly rang in his ears. He listened as the self-proclaimed seer described the one who could bring about the downfall of his leader. He knew that it could simply be a ploy by this Trelawney to gain the job position, but the prophecy seemed too specifically worded to fit amongst the generally applicable “predictions” she had previously given. Besides, there was something in her hoarse voice that unnerved Snape at an instinctive level. He carefully committed the wording to memory, knowing that the Dark Lord would want to hear it regardless of its validity.

_“…THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES.”_

There was a lengthy pause before Snape heard, “I’m terribly sorry Headmaster; I appear to have lost the thread of my reading. I believe I mentioned the eagle representing an enemy, but now I see the North Star beside it, foretelling the coming of a saviour.”

“Thank you, Sybil,” Dumbledore interjected. “I believe that will be sufficient. If you would like to move into the castle immediately, I believe we will be able to accommodate you.”

“Th-Thank you, Headmaster,” Trelawney’s said, her tone betraying her surprise. “I believe I will take you up on your offer of hospitality.”

Snape listened while the Headmaster arranged for a house elf to move the new professor’s belongings to the castle. He removed his listening charm as the door opened. Snape watched as Dumbledore escorted Trelawney out of the room, seemingly his usual jovial self. However, his gaze darted around the apparently empty hallway, as if searching for eavesdroppers. Snape calmed his emotional state to that of a stone and slowed his thoughts to a crawl as he shrank back into the recess of a nearby door. Even though it should be impossible for Dumbledore to detect him behind his invisibility, silencing charms, and Occlumency, Snape still experienced a pang of fear as the old wizard’s eyes swept past him.

Snape knew it would be foolish to follow the Dumbledore back to the castle with him on high alert. The invisible wizard would still have to open doors to pass through them, and the indentations of his footprints would still be visible. He waited five minutes for the odd pair to clear the building before making his way outside to apparate to the Dark Lord’s side.

=

Lord Voldemort sat in his throne-like chair and hid his frustration as he listened to Snape’s report. A clutter of recent Daily Prophet articles, Wizengamot legislative documents, and reports from informants littered the tabletop in front of him. The desk resided in the master study of Nott Manor—a suitably impressive room in which to meet with his supporters.

_Dumbledore_ , he thought venomously, after dismissing Snape. _It all leads back to Dumbledore_. All Voldemort wanted was to restore the roots of magic to wizard-kind. He wished to reintroduce the covens, which formed the basis of wizarding power—both magical and political. He also wanted to establish barriers to prevent the Muggles from ever discovering the magical world. With no way to understand the character and motivations of wizards and witches, and Muggles should be given minimal opportunity for contact.

The Dark Lord angrily struck the table with a fist. Unfortunately the old fool held a lot of power in this society. He forced any proposals to allow coven ritual magic to be buried in the Wizengamot legislative process. He and his disciples eschewed the idea of rescuing Muggle-borns from the Muggles as soon as they were identified. He taught the Mudbloods how to use their magic, and then actually allowed them to return to work in the Muggle world. There was just too much temptation to give away secrets. The Muggle army in Britain alone had around 200 magic users, and Merlin knows how many Squibs and “in-the-know” Muggles as well. If the Prime Minister ever decided that magical Britain needed to be brought back under Muggle rule, he had plenty of people to train and lead armed forces against the magical world.

Voldemort’s supporters sat at the other end of the spectrum. They disapproved of this Muggle-born infiltration of the magical world and the disruption that it brought. The Mudbloods were trying to recreate the Muggle world, but with added magic. Much to the discomfort of many Purebloods, these seeds of change were infecting those with influence in the Wizengamot. Thus, many wizards had flocked to Voldemort’s banner, calling for the separation of the two worlds. However, where Voldemort saw the separation as the walls around the village that kept the lions out, his supporters instead saw the gap as the fence around the pastures that kept the cattle in.

A good portion of Dark Lord’s following advocated Muggle ignorance of the magical world, much like feudal lords preventing the education of the masses. They simply wanted to control and limit information flow, so as to prevent Muggles from having the knowledge or ability to interfere in the politics or economy of the magical world. They recognized that the Muggle and magical worlds were very different, but they were comfortable in the status quo, and saw no reason for it to change.

Others among Voldemort’s supporters preferred the Muggles ignorant, unprepared, and powerless against any witch or wizard who came to call. This made it easier to take what they wanted, whether it was a bottle of wine through a Summoning Charm, or the virginity of a pubescent teen through use of the Imperius. Frankly, so long as his followers cleaned up after themselves, Voldemort didn’t care what happened to the Muggles. There were always more to replace them. Nevertheless, he did not participate in the Muggle-hunting. Lord Voldemort held himself above such lowbrow entertainment.

Lately, however, it seemed that the latter type had actually begun to exceed the number of the former in those who united under the Dark Lord’s banner. Some of the former were actually leaving. Few, if any, truly understood the threat that Muggles and Muggle-borns posed to the wizarding world as a whole. Regrettably, most of the wizards who actually wanted to limit information flow only desired cheap thrills.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore and his supporters were blocking legislation left and right, arresting wizards who Confunded a bartender for a drink, and limiting wizards’ right to even enchant most of the items they have at home. Voldemort was proud of his moniker “The Dark Lord”. It indicated his predilection towards the Dark Arts, which were formed out of the roots of magic, and elevated his status over that of even Lord Black, the former leader of the “dark” houses. If one listened to Dumbledore’s propaganda though, this title billeted Voldemort as a prospective malevolent dictator, looking to rule the wizarding world through fear and destruction. If he wanted to, he could walk into the ministry tomorrow and set off a few bombs, simultaneously demonstrating the threat Muggles posed to wizards and removing most of his opposition in a single stroke. But Voldemort didn’t want the magical world to fear him as the terrorist that the so-called “light side” claimed he was. He wanted respect as a wizard, as a lord, and as a leader. He wanted people to agree with him and his view for the future of the world.

And now there was this _prophecy_.

=

Voldemort growled as he threw aside another scroll containing a Wizengamot session transcript. Until he had tried to count them all, he hadn’t realized just how many people opposed his legislative ideas in that body. Dumbledore, of course, had blocked him at every possible turn. Doge, Bones, and Moody had voted along with Dumbledore’s every recommendation. Crouch had raised eight proposals to directly counter Voldemort’s campaign, including the abolition of the old duelling code. That one rankled heavily, as that had been the standard method of resolving disagreements for over a thousand years.

There were a few younger members, new to the Wizengamot, who seemed to have an unusual amount of influence. McKinnon had proven to be persuasive, although Voldemort suspected it was just her looks that had maintained the attention of the crotchety old men. She had argued successfully against four of his major legislations, before several of his followers called her out and took care of her. In recent weeks, Potter and Longbottom had taken their seats, and immediately formed a coalition directly opposing him. They had come to the sessions with their wives, and all had spoken passionately, exposing some of his subtler proposals to show what their desired effect would be, and inflaming the Wizengamot against him. Three of his proposals had been shot down by these efforts, and each time the families had openly defied him, calling him a monster that should be put down. They lacked some of the subtlety that had characterized his more devious opponents, such as Meadowes, but they were rather popular.

_Dorcas Meadowes_. Now there was a pleasant thought. She had been a wily opponent, making deals in the back rooms, and not even shying away from bribery. She spoke with passion when needed, with logic when necessary, but always with a smooth grace matched only by Voldemort himself. A few of his more fanatical followers went to take care of the problem, and she had sent them back in pieces. There had been no other choice but to call her out himself. Oh, but that was a duel to remember. Her wand-work was flawless, her movements an economy of motion, and her spells powerful enough to rip through stone. She had no compunctions against using the Unforgivables, but mixed them with such deadly transfigurations; it was almost an art form.

Voldemort had enjoyed that duel immensely, but he wished that all problems were solved so simply. He was tired of the endless bickering and dickering that every government seemed to require. He wanted to change the world for the better, but no one seemed to see it his way. He’d just have to persevere it seemed, and keep an eye on Longbottom. At the last Wizengamot session, it had seemed that the Longbottom woman was pregnant. If she delivered in July…well, he’d have to see what he could do to discourage any threat to his power.

=

Voldemort was in a foul mood as he stalked up the street in Godric’s Hollow. Potter had just incarcerated the last of Voldemort’s powerful supporters who had believed in his cause for the right reasons. Michael Avery had been instrumental in pushing, rather eloquently, for several new secrecy measures. Had he been caught torturing some Muggles, Voldemort would call his arrest the man’s own damn fault. Instead, Potter had nabbed him for trespassing, of all things. That put Avery on trial, and a few insinuations about his “darker associations” had been sufficient to see him dismissed from the Ministry.

Well, no more would Potter be a thorn in his side. The Dark Lord would come calling, and they would resolve their issues like the duellers of old. Voldemort’s reformation may be in shambles, but he _would_ settle his debts.

Walking around the perimeter of the property, Voldemort checked to see what wards were present. Anti-Apparition, fire-suppression, impermeability, and protective magical shielding enclosed the house, missing only a dark creature detection ward to round out the standard house set. There was also a proximity alert ward as well as a wand detection charm around the property perimeter that took a few moments to disable. As Voldemort approached the house, he cast his own anti-Portkey ward.

There was one window open on the ground floor, and smoke rising from the chimney. Voldemort cast a strong area-of-effect locking charm that would ensure all other windows and doors stayed closed. He conjured and levitated a large square stone, positioning it over the chimney and leaving it in place with a Hover Charm. He cast a simple bastardization of the Expansion Charm, opening the window wide enough to step through, before closing and locking it behind him. Voldemort would have much preferred a Reductor to the front door to announce his presence, but accepted this as the more prudent course of action. He didn’t want his opponent, or one of the potential children of prophecy, escaping before he could confront them.

=

James Potter was enjoying a quiet drink after dinner by the fire. Lily was upstairs reading a story to Harry. It was a task he normally enjoyed doing, but after an exhausting day he just wanted to relax. It had been a stroke of luck that a Squib, with enough magical ability to resist Muggle-repelling charms, had spotted Avery skulking around Buckingham Palace. The Squib had floo-called the DMLE, and James and Sirius had managed to apprehend Avery without issue.

It was the trial afterwards that had taken more energy. The crime of trespassing was minor enough that it didn’t allow for the use of Veritaserum, making prosecution a trickier prospect. The Order knew that Avery was one of Voldemort’s men, and was likely there either to sow mayhem amongst the Muggles, or to Imperius a higher official. It was possible that this was a round-about attempt on Minister Bagnold’s life, as both the Prime Minister and the Queen have access to her. However, they could not implicate Avery based on suspicions, and without his own confession there would be no confirmation of them. The Order needed Voldemort’s influence in the Ministry severed, and his access to the Minister restricted, but the trial seemed to be a Pyrrhic victory. Avery was dismissed—mostly due to bringing up a history of minor transgressions and playing to the mood of prosecuting the darker elements in society. However, most Order members regularly committed trespassing and occasionally even more major transgressions in their fight against the darkness. They were done for a good cause, but with the precedent now established, James knew the double-edged sword could also swing back in their direction.

James sighed heavily and set his drink down. A soft click from the dining room made him lift his head. Ophelia, Lily’s kneazle, stared in the direction of the sound’s source—ears plastered against the back of her head. James rose from his chair and drew his wand from its holster at the same time. He padded towards the entrance to the dining room, his bare feet on the carpet making little noise. Not hearing anything further, and seeing nothing in the darkened room, James thought with a chuckle, _Instructor Moody’s paranoia must be catching_. He had just turned around to return to his chair when his fireplace exploded.

=

Voldemort dropped his Disillusionment Charm as the stone column dropped down the chimney, blocking floo travel, and scattering embers all over the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the cat flee the flaming projectiles towards the stairs, but his attention was focused on the dark-haired Auror in front of him.

“Potter.” Voldemort hissed, causing the young man to whip around and freeze. The Dark Lord inclined his upper body in a quick, but elegant bow before continuing, “Your time has come.” He paused, giving Potter a chance to return the bow, but the idiot just blinked at him. Voldemort sighed to himself, _No one observes the old forms any more_. He raised his wand and cast the killing curse.

=

James’ conscious mind was still trying to catch up to recent events, but his combat training took over automatically. He immediately conjured a large hunk of rock in the path of the deadly green light, which exploded upon contact. Another wave of his wand banished the shrapnel towards the Dark Lord, and a quick, precise movement transfigured the shards on the fly into rudimentary, but sharp, arrowheads.

Voldemort spun in place, his impermeable cloak snapping out and batting aside the flying stones. James conjured a reflective dueller’s shield on his left arm for use against curses. Voldemort had not been idle either. Much to James’ dismay, the Dark Lord had finished creating a flame whip mid-spin. The whip lashed forward and James was forced to block the attack with his shield—not the most suitable tool for the task. The line of fire wrapped around the shield and the arm on the other side, searing it to the bone and rendering it useless.

James fought through the pain and brought up his wand, knowing he only had one shot at ending the battle when in such close quarters. As Voldemort dispelled the flame whip, James loosed two concentrated piercing hexes, one at his opponent’s heart and the other at his face. Voldemort managed to jerk his head out of the path of the latter, but couldn’t twist his body out of the way of the former in time. James’ heart lifted when he saw the hex strike Voldemort’s chest nearly dead centre. His relief was short-lived as his opponent sent a Blasting Curse that destroyed his wand, as well as his right hand and most of his arm. James Potter’s last thought before the green light took him was, _I hope I bought enough time for Lily to get out with Harry_.

=

Voldemort took a moment to appreciate the quality of his dragon hide armour before stepping over Potter’s body towards the stairs. He could hear Potter’s wife attempting to break out of the house, throwing myriad of Blasting Curses, transfigurations, vanishings, and physical attacks at the window. All would be insufficient to break through window, wall, or roof though. He reflected on the irony that their wards were what trapped her in here with him.

The Dark Lord ascended to the second floor, making no attempt to quiet his footsteps. As he moved down the hall he whispered “ _Homenum Revelio_ ”, and then conjured three constrictors. Hissing to them softly, he cast a strong Shield Charm in front of him, and then stepped into the doorway to the occupied room. A Bone Breaker and an Asphyxiation Curse immediately impacted his shield. Voldemort dropped it quickly to incinerate the murder of crows flying towards him, overpowering the _Incendio_ to blind the witch for a few moments. She cast several Stunners in quick succession, half-blind, but still forcing him to deflect two. He threw an _Incarcerous_ high at the witch’s face, causing her to levitate the conjured ropes to miss her. The snakes, having moved far enough into the room by this point, coiled instantaneously around her legs. The distraction was enough for Voldemort to catch her with a Disarming Charm, and he allowed her wand to fly past him.

With the snakes still around her legs, the Mudblood leaned back against the crib, keeping her body between Voldemort and her child. Voldemort was unused to using such lenient tactics in a duel, but Severus had asked him to spare her. He would give her a chance to yield to to him, as the rightful winner of the duel.

“Submit,” Voldemort commanded flatly.

“Never,” Lily hissed back. Voldemort just sighed. _Bloody Gryffindors_.

“ _Legilimens_ ,” he intoned, diving into the witch’s mind. Running into some obvious Occlumency redirections, he withdrew rather than fight for control. “ _Crucio_.” Holding the spell for several seconds, he then allowed the Mudblood’s shrieks to die down.

“ _Imperio_. Open your mind. Think of your son. _Legilimens_.” This time there was no Occlumency, and memories of the Potter boy drifted by. Nothing was really worth noting. There were hardly any incidents of accidental magic, and none that were all that powerful. The child could fly a toy broom better than most his age, but possessed no other irregularities. He was just a normal baby. Voldemort released his Legilimency and Imperious, and vanished the snakes.

“Stand aside.”

“Not Harry! Please – I’ll do anything!”

“Stand aside, girl!”

“No!”

The Killing Curse flew from his wand, almost before Voldemort even registered his own intent. As the witch’s body slumped over the crib, Voldemort felt a trickle of disgust well up within him. True, she had opposed him politically, but without her husband she would have posed no threat. She had fought better than your average wizard, but she was not truly combat-trained. Severus had wanted her, no doubt for her body, but she would be no good for even that anymore. Killing her had served no purpose, and the Dark Lord felt no better about it than his followers’ weekly Muggle-hunting games.

Reapplying the Silencing Charm on the baby that had faded with his mother’s death, Voldemort strolled over to the crib. _So this is the brat with the “power” to vanquish me?_ Casting several diagnostic charms, Voldemort confirmed his suspicions. The child was of fully human ancestry, had no residue of either the vampire or werewolf curses, and was even slightly on the weak side magically.

Voldemort raised his wand—the Killing Curse on the tip of his tongue—but then paused and lowered it. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t killed non-combatants in the past, but there had always been a reason. They had always done something to justify their end—some more so than others. The Riddle family had abandoned him and condemned his mother to death. Hepzibah Smith had tried to dose him with a love potion. Lily Potter had just pissed him off. This child, however, was truly an innocent—innocent of everything, except of possibly being the prophesized being to defeat him.

Voldemort raised his wand again, then held his pose. _It would be so easy_ , he thought, _but the slippery slope always is_. What was the point anyway? His political movement was effectively destroyed, his application to a job where he could influence young minds was denied, and he was left with only worthless degenerates as followers. Did it really matter if this “Dark Lord” was vanquished and Voldemort disappeared? To continue his campaign, he would be forced to change tactics. He’d have to become a true terrorist, succeed in a coup against the Ministry, and then break society and reshape it into the image of his vision.

The pair remained locked in a silent tableau—the man with wand hand poised over the frozen child. Indecision flickered behind the man’s eyes, but it quickly disappeared as a cold smile stretched across his thin lips. The wand flashed, and a spell struck the child.

=

Sirius let the tears stream down his face as he stepped past the Aurors that were examining the body of his best friend. He moved quickly up the steps and into his godson’s room. He averted his eyes from Lily’s body on the floor, sweeping them instead over the badly burnt, blood-stained robe in the corner of the room. Stepping around the investigating Auror, Sirius finally laid eyes on Harry.

The poor baby seemed cranky from loss of sleep, and he was tiredly trying to fend off the persistent hands of the healer examining him. Harry had all his limbs, didn’t appear to be in pain, and didn’t even look dirty. Sirius gathered Harry into his arms and held him still so the mediwitch could get a better look. She started the wand motions to heal Harry’s only apparent injury from the Dark Lord’s attack—two short, parallel, horizontal cuts that adorned the exact centre of his forehead.

=


	4. A Better Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Did Salazar Slytherin’s master plan to selectively rid Hogwarts of Muggle-borns involve the use of a giant snake that kills indiscriminately by looking at people? Then I don't own Harry Potter.
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful beta, Snowyiris129. My apparent vocabulary is much richer from her contributions.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ”

The red light struck Lockhart while he was still performing the complex motions of a Memory Charm. Lockhart’s wand flew from his grasp and Ron managed to catch it. He briefly considered throwing it out the window, but decided to pocket it instead.

“Shouldn’t have let Professor Snape teach us that one,” Harry said, keeping his wand on the Defence professor.

“What d’you want me to do?” Lockhart wailed. “I don’t know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There’s nothing I can do.”

“You’re in luck,” said Harry. “We have a lead on that, though we don’t know what’s in it.” Harry frowned on that last point. It would be nice to know what they were up against.

“What good am I to you then? You have my wand,” Lockhart continued to whine.

Harry and Ron exchanged a look before glancing back at the professor. Their faces cracked into identical evil grins.

“Bait.”

oOo0oOo0oOo0oOo

Something crunched underfoot as Lockhart led the way into the dank underground hall. Closer inspection revealed a multitude of small animal skeletons, all picked clean of flesh.

Shuddering, Harry raised his light from the ground and retrained his wand on Lockhart’s back. The trio of wizards passed under a crumbling archway and were met by a set of doors inlaid with more snake guardians.

“ _Open…_ ” Harry hissed.

oOo0oOo0oOo0oOo

“Now, Harry, I’m going to teach you a little lesson.” Riddle said. “Let’s match the powers of Slytherin’s Swarm against the famous Harry Potter and his two cowardly companions.” He turned and walked towards the statue of the fourth founder.

“ _Petrificus Totalus!_ ” Harry called out. The curse passed through Riddle, dissipating against the wall. Riddle laughed as Harry and Ron, now panicking, shot spell after spell through him.

“ _Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four._ ”

As the mouth of the statue opened, Lockhart hissed to Ron, “My wand. Give me my wand, Weasley.” Ron looked uncertain, but could think of no better option. He tossed Lockhart his wand without comment.

An angry chittering was audible, coming from within the statue. Riddle called out, in English this time, “Kill the other wizards and strip their flesh to the bone.” Grimly, Harry and Ron readied their wands as hundreds of dark shapes began pouring out of the statue’s great maw.

The first of the figures flew into the halo of a nearby torchlight. The three defenders saw a small, winged, semi-humanoid creature with huge eyes and extremely sharp teeth and claws. Ron began casting body binds, but could only catch one at a time. Harry was using the freezing charm Hermione had taught him to better effect, but their efforts were still mere drops in an ocean. Lockhart twisted his wand through a series of complex motions, then raised it aloft and thundered, “ _Pestispiskie Prosternomil!_ ”

The pixie-doxy hybrids stopped dead in the air. They rained down around the defenders with hundreds of light thumps. Two had grabbed onto Ron’s ears, about to bite his face, when they fell. Ron dropped to his knees, looking stunned.

Harry just stared at Lockhart. “H-h-how?”

Lockhart replied, a bit smugly, “I knew I was just a couple syllables off last time.” He strode up to Riddle, who was standing next to Ginny’s prone form, looking gobsmacked.

“But… but there’s no spell that affects pixies directly. That’s not possible.” Riddle shook his head, as if to clear it.

“I invented it myself,” Lockhart replied proudly. “Now, you say that you’re a memory? Well I know what to do with those.” He spun his wand to point at the black book wrapped in Ginny’s arms. Face screwed up in concentration, he cast “ _Obliviate!_ ”

oOo0oOo0oOo0oOo

They made an odd procession as they trooped towards the Headmaster’s office. Ron was in front, carrying Ginny. Although less pale in complexion and breathing more easily, she still had not woken. Harry and Lockhart followed, the older wizard carrying the diary. Behind them trailed a bemused looking Riddle, who was smiling benignly the suits of armour he passed.

Harry glanced at Lockhart warily. “So what’s this one going to be called then? ‘Problems with Pixies’ or ‘Dealings with Dark Lords’?”

Lockhart simply flashed a much practiced grin, giving a brilliant display of his white teeth in the process. He was imagining the looks on the rest of the faculty’s faces upon hearing the news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to think of a monster that might have actually been useful to Slytherin in clearing the school of the “unworthy”. I figured it would work best if it could do some kind of magic to detect if the student was of Muggle birth or not. It would also be more effective if it were small enough to remain unnoticed and poisonous so it could kill without trying too hard. I briefly considered a breed of Acromantulas, lending credence to Hagrid being the first to open the chamber when he had the spider in his possession. However, this idea tickled my fancy too much to pass up.
> 
> I had a bit of trouble trying to turn Lockhart’s spell into something “real” but still have it sound similar. That is the best I could come up with.  
> pestis – plague (Latin)  
> piskie – pixie (Cornish)  
> prosterno – destroy (Latin)  
> mille – many (Latin)


	5. For Verification Purposes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Did a memory extracted years later from a dying house elf show as clear as the day it was experienced in Dumbledore’s Pensive? Then I don't own Harry Potter.
> 
> This is a collection of several similarly-themed very short stories. They are to be taken as independent of each other. Also, I may play fast and loose with dates and details. I normally avoid doing so, but for this chapter, just take them as intentional changes to make the stories flow more smoothly.
> 
> I must credit my beta, Snowyiris129, for catching a good number of spelling and grammar missteps in this chapter.

On the Efficiency of Search Methods

Voldemort sat on his throne in Malfoy Manor, contemplating his nemesis. Harry Potter had escaped the Weasley abode on the day of the ministry’s defeat. He and his bothersome friends had slipped from the clutches of two Death Eaters immediately afterwards, and had since disappeared. Potter had not gone back to Hogwarts, returned to Black Manor, or visited any of his known associates. Owls and Thestrals were unable to find the boy. Snatchers were only capturing Mudbloods, and Voldemort had no fresh blood of Potter’s with which to create a blood-tracker. The Taboo hadn’t triggered in over a month. No one had any clue as to Potter’s whereabouts, but that was about to change.

Voldemort despised Muggles. They spread over the face of the Earth like locusts, simply outbreeding any predators and subverting the natural order. They were destructive and cruel, but even Voldemort had to admit that they were very creative with their methods of exacting such ruination. During his travels, young Tom Riddle had blended in with the Muggles for a time. He had endeavoured to learn all the Muggles’ damage-causing techniques, from martial arts to bomb-making. Riddle first understood the methods, then emulated and improved them with magic, before working on defensive magic to nullify them. For the most part, Muggle fighting and technology were inferior to magical techniques when used against the prepared wizard.

However, Riddle’s learning did not stop there. He also ascertained the Muggles' methods of information acquisition and subsequent dissemination. The computing age had begun when Voldemort finally devoted himself completely to the revolution of the magical world, bringing with him a multitude of new ideas. One such idea he intended to employ now was called a binary search. He grinned wickedly as his Death Eaters dragged in the first Mudblood.

oOo0oOo0oOo0oOo

Dirk Cresswell stumbled into the room as the white-masked, hulking figure gave him a shove. He looked up, and then hastily averted his gaze from the pale-faced thing with red eyes in front of him. He glanced quickly at the other Death Eater in the room, who was seated at a desk and staring at a large map. To Dirk, the Death Eater carelessly indicated the other side of the desk, where a scrap of parchment and a wand lay.

“You will be required to give several magical oaths,” said the man in a bored tone. “Should you attempt to cast any spells, you will immediately be given to the Dementors. If you still retain your magic after giving the oaths, you will be set free. Follow the wording exactly as written. Your first oath is on the parchment.”

Cresswell walked shakily over to the table. Picking up the parchment and wand, he read silently for a moment. He felt the gaze of the Death Eaters and their master on him and knew that he would never get any spells off fast enough to matter. He knew also that if he died, there were hundreds more Muggle-borns to replace him. His only chance for survival was the hope that the oaths didn’t strip him of his magic. He gave a quick prayer for the salvation of his soul, and opened his mouth.

“I, Dirk Cresswell, swear on my magic that Harry James Potter, son of Lily and James Potter, is currently north of the fifty-fifth northern parallel. So mote it be.”

oOo0oOo0oOo0oOo

Forty-one oaths and twenty Mudbloods later, Avery had Potter’s location pinpointed to within fifty feet of a particular set of apparition coordinates. The now-magicless Mudbloods had been dragged out to the Dementors, leaving only the last lucky witch left. He signalled to Crabbe to take her out as well. No reason to waste a perfectly good soul by letting it go.

Several Portkeys were created to surrounding locations in the Forest of Dean. A kill-squad was assembled with the Dark Lord himself leading. There would be no mistakes in killing Potter this time.

* * *

On the Importance of Secrecy

Harry led his two best friends up to Ron’s room, at the top floor of the Burrow. He felt guilty for having shut them out after the fiasco at the ministry, and Dumbledore pointing out that they deserved to know the prophecy had made him feel worse. Ron and Hermione had stood by him for all these years. They deserved better than that.

Sitting his friends down on Ron’s bed, Harry then seated himself opposite them. “Guys, there’s something I should tell you… Something I probably should have told you before. It’s really, really important that you keep it secret though.”

Hermione peered at him closely, seeing in his eyes how serious he was. “Is it a matter of life or death if this gets out?” she queried.

Harry nodded grimly. Hermione pulled out her wand, deciding to take advantage of the well-warded house blocking any underage magic detection. She pointed it at the door and cast Silencing and Imperturbable Charms. After a moment’s thought, she cast Silencing Charms on the walls, ceiling, and floor as well. Then she and Ron looked at each other. Ron held out his wand first. “I, Ronald Bilius Weasley, swear on my life and magic not to willingly reveal to any other than the three of us what Harry Potter tells us here, in secrecy, today. So mote it be.”

Harry stared in incredulity as first Ron, and then Hermione, gave their magical oaths. He was moved by their trust in him, especially Hermione’s. She hadn’t even requested an explanation first. Slowly, he began talking. “You remember the prophecy that smashed in the Department of Mysteries? Well, that wasn’t the only copy…”

oOo0oOo0oOo0oOo

Hours later, after analysing many interpretations of the prophecy, Harry stood and stretched. It was now coming up on noon, and his stomach was growling. “Let’s go down to the kitchen and get something to eat. I didn’t have breakfast before Dumbledore took me to go see Slughorn.”

Ron’s stomach grumbled as well, and he quickly stood. Hermione removed her charms on the room and they trooped out and down the stairs. As they passed the first floor, Ginny poked her head out of her room. “You guys interested in going flying?” she said, directing her question towards Harry and Ron.

“Naw. Harry hasn’t eaten yet today, so we’re gonna…” Ron trailed off, then slumped down against the wall. He choked and shuddered, then his eyes grew glassy. Harry watched in horror as Ron’s oath to him claimed his life for divulging a careless fact, said in secrecy.

* * *

On Backroom Dealings

Lucius Malfoy sat in a pleasantly soft chair in front of the Minister’s desk. The fact that he should have been down in the holding cells or even in Azkaban made his current situation that much more enjoyable. It even made a meeting that included Fudge’s toad-like undersecretary more bearable.

“I think we’ve come to an understanding,” said Fudge pompously. “We’ll issue you a ministerial pardon for your little trespassing incident.” The two men rose to shake hands. On Fudge’s left, Umbridge rose as well, fumbling with her hand bag.

“Will you then help out the ministry in any way you can with its current and upcoming projects?” Fudge asked with a greedy gleam in his eye.

“Of course I will,” Malfoy stated smoothly, still holding the minister’s hand in a friendly, but firm, grip. He suddenly gasped and tried to jerk his arm back. A tongue of flame had shot from Umbridge’s wand and wound itself around the men’s wrists as Fudge tightened the handshake into a death grip.

Malfoy looked up as the magic sank into their hands and faded from sight. Fudge was wearing a surprisingly vicious grin, mirroring the one on Umbridge’s face. Malfoy’s heart sank at the thought of what kind of “projects” he was now magically obligated to support with all of his resources.

* * *

On Confabulation

As Harry turned to follow Dumbledore out of Courtroom Ten, a commanding voice rang out. “A moment, if you please, Mr Potter.” Harry turned back around to see Amelia Bones striding towards him. “Do you mind speaking with me for a few minutes?” she continued. “You can head out with Arthur after that.”

Her manner was so reminiscent of Professor McGonagall that Harry nodded before even considering her words. “Excellent,” she stated, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him towards a side door. They entered a small waiting room that seemed to double as a storage space. Harry passed by several more chained chairs before settling into a less confining alternative next to a low table. Madam Bones sat down across from him.

“I believe that I must first apologise to you, Mr Potter,” Amelia started. “I fear that you may have been unduly stressed by the trial before the full Wizengamot.”

Harry frowned. “Mr Weasley said that it was rather unusual,” he stated diplomatically. “How would the hearing be conducted normally?”

“Underage magic hearings usually occur before a triumvirate. The judges would be senior officials from the Improper Use of Magic Office, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and whichever department was related to the magic used. As your spell was defensive in nature, it would also fall under Law Enforcement, so any senior ministry official could be the third member.” Amelia paused for a moment, then took deep breath. “I pushed for a full trial for two reasons.”

Harry’s eyes widened. He’d thought that it had been part of Fudge’s plan to discredit him in front of everyone. Now that he was told it was Madam Bones’ idea, he became slightly concerned about being ensconced alone in a storage room with her.

The head of the DMLE continued speaking, ignoring how Harry’s hand had twitched towards his wand at her revelation. “My first reason is that everything around you has been highly politicized lately. Minister Fudge and the Public Information Services Office have been discrediting you in the press all summer. The minister also seems to have gained influence over the Improper Use of Magic Office, as evidenced by your immediate attempted expulsion, prior to it being rescinded. Had this been a triumvirate rather than a full trial, Fudge would likely have been the third judge. Then he and Madam Hopkirk would probably have ruled against you.”

Harry slumped in his seat. He hadn’t considered that others in the ministry might be out to get him as well, or at least that Fudge could pressure everyone into acting like it. “Then it seems that rather than you apologising, I should be thanking you, Madam Bones. Out of curiosity though, what was the second reason?”

The older witch smiled briefly. “As the head of Law Enforcement, I should have gotten a chance to question you before the trial. I have been attempting to meet with you for about a month now. Because you were not accused of a crime prior to this, your magical guardian would not allow contact with you, and I could not overrule him. All Dumbledore told the Wizengamot was that You-Know-Who had returned, and that he was the one who killed the late Mr Diggory. I need more information, no matter what the ‘official’ ministry position is.”

“He didn’t tell you everything?” Harry exclaimed. “He made me go through the whole thing the same night. I guess it makes sense that you’d need to know.” He drew a shuddering breath, and his eyes acquired a haunted look. “In the third task, Cedric was going to beat me to the cup, but he wanted to give it up for me. I made him take the cup with me together. If I hadn’t…”

Harry’s voice trailed off. Amelia looked at him sympathetically, then asked, “Would it be easier for you to submit a Pensive memory?”

“Ah, yes,” Harry responded. “I’d appreciate that. How do I do it?”

Amelia walked over to one of the storage shelves and pulled off a familiar-looking silvery basin. She set it down on the table, and then drew her wand. Placing it to Harry’s temple, she told him, “Think of the sequence of events in as much detail as you can remember. The spell will take care of extracting the actual memory.”

After depositing the silvery gloop into the bowl, both Harry and Amelia touched their fingers into the liquid and found themselves in the centre of the maze.

“On three, right?” said the paler looking Harry. “One – two – three –“

“Uh oh,” said Harry, anticipating the next few moments. Traveling by Portkey in a Pensive could be said to be even more disorienting than in person. Harry shut his eyes against the physics-bending display and curled into a ball, waiting for the spinning to stop.

After landing, he immediately walked away from himself and Cedric towards the centre of the graveyard. He didn’t feel the need to see what happened next, again. Harry marvelled at the inscriptions on the headstones that he knew he had never read before. Magic really was a marvellous thing.

“ _Avada Kedavera!_ ” sounded the cry from behind him. _Some parts of magic anyway_ , he thought. Harry watched dispassionately as his counterpart was dragged, tied up, slapped, and finally stabbed. He noted Madam Bones looking equally controlled, though her features took on a severe rigidity.

“Who is this Death Eater?” she asked. “You indicated that you knew him.”

“Peter Pettigrew,” Harry stated with disgust. “I met him at the end of my third year. He got away though, obviously.”

“I think that I’d like to see that memory as well,” Amelia stated, still watching the potion change colours. Harry’s heart rose. He hadn’t thought about this as an opportunity to help Sirius clear his name. The watching pair lapsed into silence while Voldemort tested his wand and summoned his servants.

“You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father,” Voldemort hissed to his victim. “A Muggle and a fool … very like your dear mother.”

“What!” Madam Bones exclaimed. “You-Know-Who wasn’t a pureblood?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know?” Harry said, surprised. He figured that she, at least, would be privy to Voldemort’s real name. “His name is Tom Riddle. He told me himself two years ago.”

“You faced him in your second year?” she asked, aghast.

“At the end of it. First year too.” Harry smirked as she looked surprised at his levity.

A series of faint pops startled Amelia, and she immediately strode close to the arriving Death Eaters. She appeared to be looking at their heights and body types, and attempting to see the newcomers’ hair colours.

“Don’t bother,” said Harry. “He names most of them later.” The pair settled back to watch the memory proceed. Harry occasionally provided more background information, especially regarding the brother-wands relationship and the Priori Incantatem effect.

When they emerged from the Pensive, Madam Bones immediately started writing down notes. Thinking back to his dismal performance against Voldemort—such an amateur mix of duelling and running—Harry coloured slightly with embarrassment. He resolved to learn to apparate as soon as possible. Sirius would probably agree to teach him, even if it was illegal. He flopped down in a chair next to the Pensive and started prodding the memories with his wand.

Amelia finished writing and looked up to see a miniature Lily Potter hovering over the Pensive. Harry was staring at her semi-translucent face with obvious longing. “Mr Potter,” Amelia said softly, “I’d like to see memories of your other encounters with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at this time.”

Harry was a little disappointed that she didn’t want to see about Sirius and Pettigrew first, but nodded anyway. They’d get to that soon enough. She held her wand to his temple again, then deposited another silvery strand into the Pensive. “I figured we’d start with my second year, since he’s younger then.” Harry grinned at her confused look, and simply said, “You’ll see.”

They entered the Pensive together to see a younger Harry race over to Ginny’s prone form. Harry grimaced when his counterpart threw his wand aside. _Just how stupid was I back then?_

Madam Bones was listening intently as Riddle’s memory explained its own preservation. Harry wandered off, curious about the rest of the chamber. He was hoping to find some hidden room or other that he hadn’t noticed on his first expedition down here. Unfortunately, the chamber seemed to be quite simple in construction, and was bare of any further rooms.

“What in Mer…” rang out from Amelia, who was a ways behind Harry. He smirked and started back in her direction. The Basilisk was playing around with Fawkes, and Harry instinctively ducked under its thrashing tail. He straightened up, and froze.

Madam Bones’ vacant eyes stared at him from her stone-like face. His mind went into overdrive. _She must have caught the Basilisk’s gaze. She’s dead. Wait, we’re in a Pensive; that shouldn’t even be possible. Maybe she’s only petrified._

Slowly his muscles unclenched. _This is solvable. She just needs Mandrake Draught._ Harry looked around. Dumbledore or Bones had always ended the memory before. He had no idea how to get them out.

* * *

On Proper Attire for Laboratory Safety

Professor Snape swooped into the Potions classroom with his robes flaring behind him. He glared at the front row of dunderheads until they stopped smiling at him. Picking up the class roster, he called attendance. Pausing at Potter’s name, Snape looked up, intending to make a dismissive comment. The words died in his throat when he saw the boy in question.

“Potter! I don’t care what Muggle fashion trends you subscribe to; you will not wear sunglasses in my class!”

Potter’s lip quivered. He looked to be about to cry, as far as Snape could tell. The shades were completely reflective, so Snape wouldn’t even be able to enjoy the brat’s tears.

“B-but sir… these are my p-prescription glasses. I h-have issues with high photosensitivity and need…”

“Fine,” Snape cut him off, “but if you set yourself on fire because you can’t see, you’ll get a week of detention.” The professor returned to calling out names.

Behind his tinted spectacles, Harry’s eyes danced. He’d been worried about all his plans going up in smoke from Snape or Dumbledore plucking them out of his head. He was still terrible at Occlumency, but why bother expending all that effort to improve at it when such a simple solution already exists? He bit back a smile. This year was going to be interesting.

* * *

On the Consequences of Myoclonus

“Ah,” said Fudge, smirking as he glanced around at his cronies. “Yes. Yes, I thought we’d be hearing something like this.”

“Dementors in Little Whinging?” Madam Bones said, looking surprised. “I don’t understand –“

_What’s so difficult to understand?_ Harry thought, while Fudge droned on about Harry’s propensity for lying. _The Patronus Charm is only useful against dementors. If I’d cast Riddikulus, would you be confused if I said there was a Boggart? Where is Dumbledore? He would be able to explain this better. I may have to take drastic measures…_

“I’m not lying!” Harry finally burst out. “I’ll take Veritaserum to prove it!”

Madam Bones’ eyebrows raised further still and her monocle dropped into her lap. _No one volunteers to take Veritaserum. The questions that get asked… Everyone is guilty of something._ She glanced to her right and saw that Fudge and Umbridge looked particularly gleeful.

“Very well, Mr Potter,” Umbridge stated in her sickly-sweet voice. She signalled to a person behind Harry, and a woman in red robes stepped forward to stand in front of him. The witch ran a wand over his body, mumbling under her breath.

Harry shrank back, but the wand disappeared back into her robes. The witch announced the results of her diagnostic spell, “He’s currently under no potions influence.” She turned around again, pulling out a vial of clear liquid. “Open your mouth,” she commanded.

Jessica Savage had completed the Auror training program only six months prior, and had only administered Veritaserum twice. She normally had a very steady hand, but there was no guarding against random muscle twitches. Several extra drops of the potion spilled onto Harry’s tongue. Auror Savage saw this, but shrugged. _Veritaserum is non-toxic, so it’s not like he’ll die from an overdose. Now why they don’t give us eyedroppers, I’ll never understand…_

“Mr Potter,” Madam Bones began, “will you tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

Harry’s gaze unfocussed. His flat, expressionless voice rasped, “Yes.”

oOo0oOo0oOo0oOo

Two and a half hours later saw Fudge and a few other Wizengamot members outside Courtroom Ten, constructing as many magical and physical barriers as possible on the door to the courtroom. Various other members of the court were slumped against the walls, holding their heads, or in the process of being carted off to St Mungo’s. It was into this chaos that Albus Dumbledore strode with Arabella Figg in tow.

“Minister Fudge,” Dumbledore called out, annoyance colouring his tone. “Would you care to explain why the hearing was rescheduled and moved down here from the Improper Use of Magic Office? And what exactly are you doing?”

Now that he had moved closer, Dumbledore could hear Fudge’s near-incoherent mumbling as he continued warding the door, “…not true at all… can’t be true…” Dumbledore turned and saw the Dowager Longbottom leaning against a wall nearby. She was trembling, but appeared focused. While not exactly friends, she and Dumbledore were long-time allies in the struggle against Voldemort.

“Augusta,” Dumbledore asked, “what’s going on?”

She stared up at the Chief Warlock with haunted eyes. “Potter asked for truth serum. He wanted to prove his innocence. But they gave him too much.” Dumbledore’s eyes widened and Madam Longbottom’s tremors intensified. “They asked him to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So he did.”

“Where is he?” asked Dumbledore. “Has he been sentenced already?

“He was still…” she paused as a shudder passed through her, “…talking when we all got out a half-hour ago. He’s in there.” She pointed at the now heavily warded door.

Dumbledore raised his hand in the air and Fawkes appeared in a flash of flame. He grabbed onto Fawkes’ tail feathers, and then both Dumbledore and the phoenix vanished.

oOo0oOo0oOo0oOo

Dumbledore appeared in the deserted courtroom and looked around. Overturned tables and ink bottles gave testament to the hasty exit of the Wizengamot members. He saw that the front table section at which the court scribe sat had been burned to ash. Catching sight of Harry in the defendant’s chair, he strode over.

Harry was twiddling his thumbs and looking around with a mildly curious expression on his face. “Harry, my boy, are you alright?” the old wizard asked nervously.

“Hmm?” Harry responded, distractedly. “Oh yes, of course. I’m just fine, Headmaster.”

“I heard that you were telling ‘the whole truth’. What exactly did that entail, Harry?”

“Everything about everything, of course,” Harry responded. “It took a surprisingly short amount of time.”

“Do you know how Voldemort survived his death?” Dumbledore queried with a hopeful expression on his face.

“Hmm?” Harry seemed distracted again. “No, sorry. I don’t actually remember most of it now. Except some stuff about toads. Man, you’d never look at a toad the same way again if I told you what I know. Did you ever hear that Muggle fairy tale about the princess and the frog? Turns out it was actually a witch and a toad. She transfigured him into a human, and they… did a lot more than kiss…” Harry trailed off, a slight blush tingeing his cheeks.

“Harry,” Dumbledore tried again, “why is the ministry sealing you in here?”

“I’m not sure,” Harry replied, looking confused. “Umbridge was a bit upset to find that out about her grandparents though.”

Dumbledore paused, then shook his head and sighed. “Come, Harry. We may as well be on our way.” With a flash of fire, they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer, Part II: I don’t own the Hitchhiker’s “trilogy” either.
> 
> I hate seeing “Wizarding Oaths” being used in fanfiction. As far as I can find, there’s no canonical evidence of their existence, and they are entirely too convenient. In a lot of fics, they’re thrown around like candy on Halloween and never seem to have consequences for the “good guys”. I wanted to write a response to all the fics that use them, and it kind of snowballed into a set of rather unique problems that all the magical truth-telling methods could have. Most were just done for the sake of humour though.  
> My favourite part of this chapter was researching the Ministry and finding out about the (canon) Public Information Services Office. I’d imagine that would be unofficially (and frequently) shortened to PISOff.


	6. Trading Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Did Albus Dumbledore give two teenagers only vague instructions before sending them back in time to rescue a dangerous beast and a wanted fugitive? Then I don't own Harry Potter.
> 
> I wish to recognize the heroics of my beautiful beta, Snowyiris129. This chapter was a bit of a mess before she stepped in and rescued it.
> 
> I am attempting to Brit-pick myself, which is going swimmingly. If anyone notices any errors, I'd appreciate it if they'd let me know.

Albus Dumbledore strode down the Clock Tower corridor, pondering what he had just learned from Sirius Black. The master Legilimens had scoured Black’s rather fragmented mind, but had found only truth in his extraordinary tale. Either the fugitive was a better Occlumens than Severus, or an innocent man had been locked in Azkaban for twelve years.

There appeared to be evidence that there were other parties involved in tonight’s events, but not all the pieces had fallen into place just yet. The Dementors had been surrounding the group at the lakeside. Harry had been failing to produce a Patronus. All other possible casters were somehow incapacitated or too far away. So how had the Dementors been driven off?

As he approached the hospital wing, Dumbledore heard raised voices. He paused to listen at the door, and heard Severus speaking.

“You see, Minister? Confunded. Black’s done a very good job on both of them.”

“WE’RE NOT CONFUNDED!” Harry’s voice carried easily through the thick oak. “Madam Pomfrey, you tell them!”

“I already checked you three for physical injuries and lingering magical effects,” Madam Pomfrey said in clipped tones. “You two have a heavy dose of Dementor’s Breath, and all three of you have been subjected to a Confundus Charm, amongst other non-malignant mental spells.”

“W-w-what?” Hermione stuttered. “We were Confunded?”

“Yes, of course,” Severus stated. “Did you think I would make baseless accusations?” Harry’s snort of disbelief was audible even in the hall.

Dumbledore chose this moment to enter the hospital wing, leaving the door open behind him. “Cornelius, I believe the Dementors are arriving at the school gates. Severus, could you provide an escort?”

“Ah, excellent,” the Minister said, his demeanour brightening instantly. “Come along, Professor. We’ll get the whole matter dealt with shortly.” Snape’s smile turned feral.

“Poppy,” Dumbledore continued when the two men had left, “would you mind giving me a few minutes to speak with Miss Granger and Mr Potter before they turn in for the night?”

Madam Pomfrey looked ready to protest, but stilled at a sharp look from the old wizard. “Very well, Headmaster, but they should not be agitated in any way. I expect them to be sleeping in fifteen minutes.” With a final stern look, she walked into her office and closed the door.

“Professor?” Hermione said tentatively. “We saw Pettigrew. I’m sure that wasn’t faked. And Professor Lupin was there… I’m pretty sure that Sirius is innocent.”

“Yes, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore replied tiredly, “Sirius is innocent. But I cannot stop the Dementor’s Kiss from being administered. The Minister’s office trumps mine, and the Kiss-On-Sight order was approved by the Wizengamot. Without Pettigrew we do not even have sufficient evidence to call for a trial.”

Harry looked like someone had killed his Crup. “Isn’t there anything you can do sir?”

“No, but there may be something _you_ can do,” Dumbledore said, peering over his spectacles at Hermione. The witch’s small gasp showed she understood, so Dumbledore continued, “Sirius needs to get away from the Ministry so we can prove his innocence before it is too late. Go back three hours. Move on Buckbeak at the green signal, and get Sirius out by a quarter to midnight. He is on the seventh floor, thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. Arrive back here by…” Dumbledore consulted his watch, interpreting the planets' positions with practised ease, “…five minutes to midnight. Do not be seen. Do not be late.”

A single knock on the door attracted their attention. At Dumbledore’s whispered “Go!” Hermione grabbed a thoroughly bemused Harry, threw a gold chain around his neck, and spun her precious hourglass. The two of them disappeared and the Headmaster let out a sigh of relief. He strode over to the door and tapped it once with his knuckles, before parting his beard and reaching into the neck of his own robes to pull out another hourglass.

Three short spins later, Dumbledore found himself on the spiral staircase leading up to his office. He paused for a few minutes outside the door until he heard a chair scrape across the ground. Once more, Dumbledore rapped the door, and then turned and descended the stairs towards his meeting with Fudge and Macnair.

oOo0oOo0oOo0oOo

Making small talk with Ministry officials tended to be a tedious prospect at best. Small talk with the buffoon, Fudge, and his butcher was downright unpleasant. Thankfully, Leo Scamander was there to provide intelligent conversation.

“I’ve often thought that the Ban on Experimental Breeding was far too restrictive,” Leo was saying as the party walked towards Hagrid’s hut. “Not every breeder is out to produce Basilisks. In a controlled environment with Ministry supervision, there shouldn’t be any issues — unlike the current exception application process. Which reminds me, how is the Manticore-Fire Crab crossbreeding going? That exception for Hogwarts was approved a month ago.”

“I’m afraid we’re still collecting breeding stock,” Dumbledore replied. “Fertilization should begin this summer, and the Care of Magical Creatures classes will be able to observe their growth next year.” Macnair fingered his axe, looking interested.

Dumbledore spoke loudly to cover up the semi-audible voices coming from behind the cabin, “Professor Hagrid will be overseeing the raising of the crossbreeds. I’m certain that he will be able to take care of any difficulties that may arise.”

Fudge looked doubtful as he knocked on the aforementioned professor’s door. Hagrid opened it and ushered them inside. Dumbledore paused to put a comforting hand on Hagrid’s bicep, and then closed the door sharply behind him when he heard footsteps rounding the corner of the cabin.

“Where is the beast?” Macnair asked.

“Out – outside,” Hagrid responded.

As Macnair headed for the window, Dumbledore prompted Fudge by handing him the execution notice. Once the executioner turned away from the window Dumbledore drew his wand. He subtly cast an old artist’s charm at the glass window, which froze the scene in place. The charm was designed to allow artists to sketch a busy scene at their leisure, but had the side effect of making the reverse side of the glass acquire a bright green tint.

A Quietening Charm on the walls muted outside sounds and ensured that the cabin occupants could only hear Fudge’s narration of the writ. Dumbledore further stalled by drying up the ink in the bottle before Hagrid could sign, and calling Macnair back to sign as well before he could exit the cabin. He treated them all to a brief lecture on the safe methods of approaching Hippogriffs, but figured he had put off their egress for as long as he could.

Though he hid it well, Dumbledore was greatly amused by the Ministry group’s reaction to Buckbeak’s disappearance. He became slightly concerned, though, when Macnair started examining the rope.

“The rope was cut by a spell!” the executioner snarled. “We have to search the grounds!”

“ _Homenum Revelio_ ,” Dumbledore incanted, deliberately botching the wand motion. A rush of magic spread out from him, but failed to reveal any targets.

“I believe that it would be far more efficient for the thief to fly Buckbeak away. I do not suppose you have a broom in your possession?” When the party looked to the skies, Dumbledore quickly cast a wide-area Scourgify to clear the rather obvious set of claw and hoof prints leading into the forest. When Macnair looked down again and indicated his lack of flying implement, the Headmaster turned back towards Hagrid’s cabin. He had always enjoyed the half-giant’s homemade brandy.

oOo0oOo0oOo0oOo

Two hours later found the old wizard near the Whomping Willow. He had shared a few drinks with Hagrid, before sending him along up to the castle. Dumbledore had dispatched a Patronus back to his younger counterpart, carrying the simple message “Tag,” before stopping by the broomshed. Now he was Disillusioned and following the odd procession back towards the castle, waiting for his opportune moment.

As Lupin transformed, the Headmaster sent a Reductor at the manacles that bound him to Pettigrew. Dumbledore immediately started setting up a temporary fear ward that would keep dark creatures away from the area. Upon turning back around, he saw that Pettigrew had stunned Ron and the cat, obviously in preparation for transforming. Dumbledore spun his wand by Harry and Hermione, casting two low-powered Confundus Charms. He then turned his wand on Pettigrew, transfiguring him into a rat-shaped soft toy.

Dumbledore summoned the doll out of the manacles, pocketed it, and then stepped quickly away from the group. After a moment’s thought, he cast a third Confundus on Ron, before enlarging and hopping on his broom. Ignoring the echoes of a long-past night-time duel, Dumbledore passed quickly over the hoods of the swarming Dementors and reached the other side of the lake in seconds. A slightly older Harry than the one he had just left was crouched behind a bush on the lake edge. A controlled, but powerful, Cheering Charm left the Headmaster’s wand and struck Harry in the back.

“ _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ ”

Even when expected, Harry’s Patronus was rather impressive. Dumbledore hovered nearby, unnoticed, while waiting on the time-traveling duo. They were discussing flight time and checking their watches for almost a half hour before they finally mounted up. The Headmaster flew escort to the castle and listened to their conversation with Sirius. When it became clear that they wouldn’t have any issues, he zipped around the corner and unlocked a window.

Alighting on the fourth floor, he shrunk and stowed the broom. Striding up to the hospital wing, he entered through the door that his counterpart had left open. He waited for the potions master and the Minister to leave before knocking once on the inside of the now-closed door. As soon as his younger self was temporally displaced, he removed his Disillusionment and opened the door to let Harry and Hermione back into the wing. Dumbledore would interrogate Pettigrew once he had a chance to rest, but from the look of the evening, that would be a long time coming.

oOo0oOo0oOo0oOo

While flying south-east astride Buckbeak’s, Sirius thought back to the day he was first captured. He had slipped up badly. The Dark Lord had fallen, and he thought that Peter would make the best scapegoat to cover for Sirius’ betrayal. He’d managed to corner Peter and kill a bunch of the surrounding Muggles with Peter’s wand to provide evidence of his criminality. Sirius had locked the rat in his Animagus form and was throwing some memory charms around when the Aurors showed up. Peter slipped his bindings and disappeared. All Sirius could do at that point was laugh.

Fortunately the plan was still somewhat salvageable. The Aurors had snapped his wand immediately, so they had no evidence of illegal spell-casting. His lack of a trial also threw doubt on his guilt. And tonight, he’d managed to Imperius Peter while Remus was reversing his transformation. This left the rat confessing how he had been the one to betray the Potters. Sirius had not accounted for Peter’s early escape before managing to manufacture an excuse to kill the rat. Regrettably, Sirius had had never been able to maintain control of an Imperius while in dog form. His ruse had evidently worked well enough, though, for Harry to risk breaking him out again. The hardest part of the night was keeping his Occlumency together enough to fool Dumbledore, but it had fortunately been up to the task.

His current situation was still grim though. The Ministry wanted to kill him, so no change there. Peter would probably reveal himself somewhere soon, now that he had control of his transformation. Once that happened, there would be no more help from Dumbledore. The only thing to do now was to try to find his master and bring him back to power. He’d heard something intriguing in Knockturn about Albania. Perhaps an Eastern European vacation was in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trelawney’s second prophecy still had to be fulfilled, and Sirius’ case always seemed a bit fishy to me. Granted, I took a lot of liberty with canon events, and I left a few changes up to the readers’ imaginations, but I think it all works out. Let me know if you spot an inconsistency somewhere.


	7. Switch and Bait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Did Dumbledore leave the Philosopher’s Stone in Hogwarts without the mirror’s protection for several months? Then I don't own Harry Potter.
> 
> As usual, Snowyiris129 is to be credited with the refinement of this chapter.
> 
> Please note that there is a significant time skip at the first scene break.

Albus Dumbledore settled back into his chair and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. The task of implanting the Stone within the mirror without actually looking at his reflection had proved quite difficult, but he had managed it. The rest of the protections had already been in place for a semester. While most of the students were sufficiently deterred by the Cerberus, all who were going to bypass the obstacles had done so already. He hoped that they enjoyed the bowl of lemon drops he had left in the final room as a reward. More importantly, he hoped that word had spread that there wasn’t anything important there. It was just another one of Hogwarts’ little idiosyncrasies, like the moving staircases and resident Poltergeist.

It had been the best time to collect the Stone from the catacombs in Devon – just five months since it had been moved there from Gringotts. The Fidelius would start to degrade soon, and Voldemort was sufficiently well-versed in that particular charm to detect and penetrate it by the end of the school year. Dumbledore had left the Fidelius in place though, hoping that Voldemort, who would be searching for a place that his eyes could not see and his mind could not remember, would keep his attention away from Hogwarts. While he could have kept the Stone there and recast the charm every few months, Dumbledore felt that it was best protected under his watchful eye.

Besides, the Mirror of Erised was a wonderful creation that should provide an adequate final line of defence. Should Voldemort manage to breach Hogwarts’ wards, sneak past the Headmaster, and bypass the – admittedly simple – obstacles in the third floor corridor, the mirror should be enough to trap him. Though inadvertent on the Headmaster’s part, young Harry had tested the mirror nicely. Harry was likely to be a student with one of the most tragic pasts currently in the school. If he were able to pull himself away from the mirror, then no other student would be permanently enraptured should they stumble across the mirror as well.

On the other hand, an adult wizard who had great ambition or tragic losses in his life would be held bound by the pseudo-reality existing in the mirror. Dumbledore himself could not look in it, lest the gazes of his mother, father, sister, brother, and former lover capture his eyes forever. A wizard with such ambitions and failures as Voldemort would be unable to tear himself away from it. Once he was entranced, it would be a simple matter for Dumbledore to ambush and defeat him.

The aged wizard stood up from his chair and headed for his bed-chamber. Creating such a brilliant, multi-layered defence surely made him deserving of a long night of sleep. The incessant piles of paperwork could wait for the new day.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry sat in his room at Privet Drive, lost in thought. He thought about Sirius’ death, and how the mission to rescue him had ironically been what killed him. He thought about the letters his friends had sent him, and the very little information they contained. He thought about the mirror, now broken in his trunk, that he should have used to contact Sirius. He thought about Cho, and some of the more notable parts of her anatomy that he would, regretfully, now never experience.

Most of all, he thought about the Prophecy. He thought about its wording, and any other possible interpretations. He thought about what Voldemort knew, and the significance of the rest. He finally thought that his bed was rather uncomfortable, and rose from it to begin pacing.

Harry understood that with his abysmal skills in Occlumency, Dumbledore hadn’t wanted to risk the leak of the rest of the Prophecy by telling him. He also realized that the wording was sufficiently vague that it was unlikely that it would matter now that Voldemort had openly risen again. What he couldn’t understand was why Dumbledore wouldn’t have told him the first two lines – the same part that Voldemort already knew. Harry could have been better prepared for his faceoff with the madman if he had started training for it earlier. Why Dumbledore had to wait until now to tell Harry, why Harry could only start learning to fight him when the war was in full force, he had no idea. “Having a childhood” was of little use to a marked man.

Still, he felt like what the Headmaster had done hadn’t quite deserved the trashing that Harry had given his office. Harry still had some lingering resentment towards the old man, but the anger had burned itself out. _I just wish that the Headmaster would get a taste of his own medicine for once. Maybe I could set up some kind of prank? Get some half-moon glasses and look over them at him, all disappointed-like? Respond to questions with only vaguely-worded statements? Nah. Give him some odd, possibly dangerous, magical artefact? Make a golden goblet that spits out bits of parchment with “Albus Dumbledore” written on them? I’ll have to think on this some more._

OoOoOoOoO

Fred and George pulled Harry away from Hermione, who was dabbing bruise remover on her eye, to show him their shop’s back room. Harry was amazed by the variety and versatility of the products, but he wanted to talk to the twins before anyone else came looking for him.

“Hey guys,” Harry began, “I was hoping… well… I’m in need of some professional advice.”

“Oh ho?” Fred responded, perking up. “How may we advise you?”

“I was hoping to get a good one over Dumbledore, but I need to get into his office,” Harry said conspiratorially. “You got any ideas?”

“Brings a tear to my eye,” said George, wiping his eye with a finger.

“The next generation of pranksters, taking after our example,” Fred continued.

“And going after the big game for their first shot too,” George said.

“We’re so proud of you!” they both exclaimed, throwing their arms around Harry.

“Alright, alright, gerroff me,” Harry grunted, pushing them away from him. “I’m not going to be able to prank him if I have to stand there and guess my way through every Muggle and Magical sweet to get past the gargoyle.”

“Well, the Map will give you that password,” said George.

“But that’s the easy part,” Fred quickly followed up in response to Harry’s stunned look.

“Yeah. The Headmaster’s got a few other security measures, but we’ve worked some of them out. Took him catching us a few times to do it too,” George said proudly.

“First precaution is going to be Disillusionment,” Fred said, ticking off a finger. “You’ve got to sneak by the portraits in the corridor and office.” Harry grinned, thinking of his cloak.

“Now here’s the fun part…”

OoOoOoOoO

The morning following the sorting, Harry woke early and walked down to the Kitchens. Tickling the pear, he entered the portrait hole. Harry glanced around quickly, hoping to spot his little friend before…

“Harry Potter has come to see Dobby! Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter again, sir, and Harry Potter has come!”

Grimacing, Harry turned around to look at the elf that was inexplicably behind him. “Morning, Dobby. It’s good to see you too. How are you?”

Dobby’s eyes grew wide. “Thank you, sir, for asking how is Dobby. Dobby is doing good work getting castle ready for children. What can Dobby do for the Great Harry Potter, sir?”

“Well,” Harry began, “you really were such a great help last term, showing me the Room of Requirement, and then warning us when Umbridge was coming. I was hoping for another little favour.”

Dobby’s huge eyes got even wider and began to tear up. “Harry Potter is thanking Dobby? Dobby is so happy! Dobby will do anything for Harry Potter, sir.”

Harry grimaced again, but plunged onward. “Well, I was hoping to play a little joke on the Headmaster…”

OoOoOoOoO

The Headmaster stepped out of the emerald fire with gracefulness acquired through years of practice. He then stopped short and leaned upon his desk, as if suddenly overcome by all the years at once. Heaving a tired sigh, he moved towards his chambers. It had been a long day of meetings with the new Minister, Wizengamot members, and several informants for the Order. He was fatigued from the travel, but the weariness caused by the continual violence over the summer weighed heavier on his soul. Dumbledore walked into his bathroom, looking forward to soaking his old bones.

Combat instincts, honed by a century of use, and on high alert since Voldemort’s resurrection, had Dumbledore’s arm moving before the thought processed consciously. His wand was in his hand, unhindered by its withered state, and an omni-directional shield sprang into existence before the candles finished igniting. Dumbledore’s mind caught up with his magic and his eyes cast about for the danger. Something was different, _wrong, dangerous_ , but he didn’t know what.

His eyes fell on the large mirror set into the wall above his sinks. The framing looked different than usual, more intricate. His eyes traced upwards, and widened in terror upon seeing the lettering at the top. _It couldn’t be! Not here, not now!_ He swivelled in place, putting his back to the mirror and casting about with his magical and biological senses for an ambusher. _No one. No one is here but me. Then why the mirror?_

The aged wizard stepped to the side, careful to put himself out of the viewing area of the mirror. He turned his head slightly and studied the mirror from the corner of his eye. The colour and design of the frame were familiar to him, but looked slightly off. It may have been transfigured slightly to set it into wall over the sink. _But why leave it at all? If the goal was to trap me, they could have simply switched the glass. Why give me the warning?_

His eyes travelled upwards again to the lettering, and he did a double-take. The first word was different; this was not the Mirror of Erised. Nor was it the Mirror of Tidn or even the Mirror of Ees, which were the only other two still extant of the Seven Mirrors of Narcissus. _I haven’t even heard of a Mirror of Noitcel. Perhaps a new artefact then?_

His eyes strayed to the end of the inscription and travelled backwards to divine its purpose. A moment later, he let out a barking laugh that descended into a raspy chuckle. Slipping his wand back into his robes, Dumbledore stepped in front of the mirror and admired the gold relief around the edges. He rather liked the mirror now, as it added a bit of class to his otherwise spartan bathroom. There was little doubt about who was the responsible party now. He would have to thank the boy later, and congratulate him on a well-done prank. The Headmaster reread the words at the top, smiled, and turned away.

Noitcel fer ruoy nahte romg nih ton wohsi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of the Mirror of Erised entrapping adult wizards came from Arsinoe de Blassenville’s “The Best Revenge”. I could never match her excellent exhibition of its dangers, so I can only recommend that you read it. The Seven Mirrors of Narcissus was borrowed from MarauderLover7’s “Innocent”.


	8. Logical Extremes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Did fewer than thirty named “good-guy” characters die during Voldemort’s second war on the Wizarding World, despite most of the main characters being on the front lines? Then I don't own Harry Potter.
> 
> This is another collection of short scenes. They are all things that, maybe not should have, but could have happened in the stories. They are all to be taken as independent of each other, for obvious reasons. This was inspired, in part, by willyolioleo’s The Next Morning. Because I always strive to be different, I didn’t touch on first year at all.
> 
> Thanks again to Snowyiris129 for her fast betaing.

_Regarding Sports Equipment_

Harry stepped into the arena, glared defiantly at the dragon, and raised his wand.

“ _Accio Firebolt!”_ he shouted.

Harry waited with his heart in his mouth for the broom to show. A minute later, he tried again, wondering why he hadn’t stored it closer to the arena. Again he summoned it, and again he waited for several minutes while the crowd murmured, snickered, and finally laughed at him. He tried several more times, wondering why he hadn’t tested summoning his broom from this area before. He waited, hoping that it would come, against all odds.

No broom showed.

_Nothing for it then,_ Harry thought. He ran straight at his, rather surprised, dragon, hoping to nab the egg by sheer luck.

OoOoOoOoO

Later, at Harry’s funeral, Draco snickered softly in Pansy’s ear.

“Idiot, Potter. Everyone knows the brooms are unsummonable. Imagine the cheating that would happen in every match from people in the stands.”

* * *

 

_Regarding Monologuing_

“So it all comes down to this, Tom?” whispered Harry. “Does the wand in your hand know its last master was disarmed? Because if it does… I am the true master of the Elder Wand.”

Voldemort’s already pallid skin paled even further as the implications of Potter’s claim sank in. The wand in his hand might fail if he were to attack the boy right now. He eyed the huge crowd of people comprised mostly of Dumbledore’s Order, calculating angles, odds, and tactics. A burst of red and gold light from the enchanted ceiling struck the duellers simultaneously.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” the boy shouted, sending a jet of red light towards the Dark Lord. Voldemort spun out the bolt’s path, slipping his right hand into his robes. He switched the Elder Wand for the one he had forced Ollivander to make, and brought it up as he completed his turn.

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” the boy cast again, but the spells missed each other by several inches. The new wand flew out of Voldemort’s hand, but Harry slumped to the ground, dead. Again.

Voldemort reached into his robes and extracted the Elder Wand, feeling it sing in his hand as it accepted its new master. He inaugurated the occasion with a cutting curse that severed the boy’s head. No reason not to be sure.

This, apparently, was sufficient impetus to snap the Order out of their shock. They all attacked at once, but the Elder Wand, in the hands of its master, could block all the spells with ease. After the first volley of curses was deflected, Voldemort released a vicious torrent of Fiendfyre. He had to take two Bludgeoners and a Cutting Curse to the back to fully form the fire, but the Order was soon too busy fleeing to attack.

The Dark Lord made sure that all who were there fell to either spell or flame before he walked out of the remaining wards, leaving Hogwarts to be consumed. All of his Death Eaters were dead, as were his opponents. Voldemort was alone again.

_Just the way things should be._

* * *

 

_Regarding Opportune Moments_

“Harry, I don’t think you should touch it,” said Hermione sharply, as he stretched out his hand.

“Why not? It’s got my name on it,” Harry said defensively, and plucked the orb from its stand. He held it up, trying to see it better in the dim light.

The orb suddenly flew from Harry’s grasp. Lucius Malfoy’s silent summoning charm pulled it right into his hands, as the Death Eater allowed his Disillusionment to fade.

The DA members gaped at the sudden appearance of several masked figures with wands at the ready. Harry immediately shouted, “Where’s Sirius? I know you have him!”

“No,” Malfoy said. “He was never here. Say goodbye to your friends, Potter.”

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ” Five voices called out in unison. Luna ducked, pulling Ginny down with her, but the curses were all cast at waist level. Harry tried to move in front of Hermione, but a red bolt of magic had caught him before the second word of the incantations. All six students slumped to the ground, though only one was still breathing.

“Dolohov,” Malfoy commanded, “pick up Potter. We should get him and the prophecy back to our Lord. Potter took his time getting here, so we’re behind schedule as it is.”

Bellatrix paused by Neville’s body as the rest of the Death Eaters filed out of the room, and cooed “Too bad, baby Neville. I wanted to play with you more.” She swept out after the others, making for the Atrium to disapparate.

* * *

 

_Regarding Serendipitous Events_

Harry’s hand had closed on Cedric’s wrist; one tombstone stood between him and Voldemort, but Cedric was too heavy to carry, and the cup was out of reach.

Voldemort’s red eyes flamed in the darkness. Harry saw his mouth curl into a smile, saw him raise his wand.

“ _Accio!_ ” Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the Triwizard Cup. Nothing happened. Harry realized, far too late, that the cup was charmed unsummonable, just like the eggs in the First Task.

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

The jet of green light caught Harry between his eyes. Voldemort felt a sudden wave of fatigue wash over him, and he allowed himself a moment to rest. He hadn’t expected to be chasing a young teenager around just after being reborn. He also knew that he wouldn’t be able to play this off as going “just as planned” to his Death Eaters. At least the boy hadn’t escaped. That would have been terribly embarrassing and would probably induce betrayal from some of the more enterprising Death Eaters if they felt that they could profit from it.

Voldemort turned to look at the trophy next to him. _What did Potter want with the Cup anyway? Just a shield from the curse?_ Almost absentmindedly, the Dark Lord reached out to grasp one of the handles.

The distinctive hook behind where his navel would be if he still had one gave Voldemort scant moments to prepare. He arrived to a scene of chaos, on a wooden platform, right next to the Minister of Magic.

The pudgy man’s eyes widened under his bowler hat. “My God –“

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

The Minister’s body fell, cuing the screaming to start. Voldemort swept his gaze around, taking stock of the situation. There was a huge crowd of people, in all directions around him. He was atop some kind of stage, so they all had a clear shot at him. Worst of all, he was under Hogwarts’ wards, preventing any Apparition or Portkeys made by anyone but the Headmaster. He needed to get these people running, preferably with a lot of confusion.

“ _Ash Mitelaka_ _·_ _hat Bet·vok Habi·rad_ ”

Huge chunks of ice and burning rock appeared in the sky and pelted downwards upon the crowd. The screaming, which had previously been somewhat localized, now came from everywhere. Wizards and witches were running for cover, trying to transfigure a shelter in-place, or fighting with each other to get out of the death-trap of the stands before they collapsed under the onslaught.

Voldemort managed to disillusion himself, but had to rest for a moment after expending the energy required to create a temporarily self-sustaining conjuration field over the Quidditch pitch. When he was able, he began to quickly move towards Hogsmeade. He had to constantly renew a Bombardment Ward over himself, but it was worth it for all the confusion the curse had created.

The feeling of a Homenum Revelio passing over him gave the Dark Lord only a split-second warning before the ground reached up to swallow him. Voldemort froze the mud and blasted his way out, not at all surprised to find Dumbledore on the other side. For once, the old man had dispensed with the pleasantries and immediately began to fight. Lightening flashed from the Headmaster’s wand, and the Dark Lord raised a wall of earth to ground it. He banished it towards the Headmaster, transfiguring it to stone on the fly, but that was a mere distraction, easily dealt with.

Voldemort managed to conjure three venomous snakes, sending them winding through the darkness, before he had to shield himself from where Dumbledore appeared behind him in a flash of fire.

As the poisoned needles bounced off his thick glass wall, Voldemort remembered why he had never attacked Hogwarts in the past. So much of his duelling style depended on the mobility that Apparition gave him; he never wanted to fight anywhere with such strong anti-Apparition wards. Meanwhile, the old man had that damnable phoenix to move him around with almost as much ease. This battle could very easily go quite badly for him.

Blasting Curses suddenly appeared from a second caster, taking out all of his conjured snakes. Dumbledore acknowledged his reinforcement with a nod, and Voldemort turned his eyes on the newcomer as well. Recognition turned his dismay into hidden glee, and Voldemort counter-attacked with a sudden flurry of spells, looking to draw as much of Dumbledore’s attention as possible.

The old man shielded the spells with relative ease before animating several golems from the debris. Moody was forcing the Dark Lord to hold position under an Aegis shield with concentrated spell-fire, before he stepped behind the Headmaster and loosed a Killing Curse into his back at point-blank range.

The golems fell, as lifeless as their animator, and Voldemort turned on the few Aurors making their way towards the fight. Confusion gave the Dark Lord and the faux-Moody an edge, and the Aurors were quickly eliminated.

Disillusioned once more, Voldemort strode towards the ward-boundary with his most loyal Death Eater at his side.

“Well done, Barty. You played your part in the fight excellently,” the Dark Lord complemented him in low tones.

“Thank you, my Lord. I am glad to see you back in your body, but I was not expecting you to attack here tonight.”

“I am afraid that, though your skill in deception has proved to be adequate, your Portkey adjustment abilities have been found wanting. We will speak on this later.”

* * *

 

_Regarding Three-Dimensional Disorientation_

Cormac hovered in front of the goalposts, ready to prove that he deserved the Keeper position on the team more than anyone else. He had already blocked four shots, and could see Bell lining up her fifth. She was glancing repeatedly at the right hoop, so she would probably be shooting left.

He adjusted his grip on his broom. For some reason, he had put the wrong hand on the front. Katie flew at him, curving to his right. He readied himself for a quick swerve, waiting for the tell-tale sign in her eyes. She drew back her arm, just outside the scoring sphere…

_There!_ Her eyes flicked to the left hoop and Cormac jerked his broom… and the Quaffle was sailing through the hoop and he was on the wrong side. _Damn_ , he just couldn’t get a perfect score! But he had tried to move that direction before the shot. He tried again, to go retrieve the ball, and just drifted further to the right. What was going on?

Every time he tried to move one way, he’d go in the other direction. Left was right, up was down. _Oh that’s the problem_. He was upside down for some reason. He rolled over on his broom and relaxed now that he could move correctly. _Hmm, strange…_ He seemed to have dropped his broom and was currently flying up, away from it. Comac let out a giggle at the fluffy ground below him. _That’s a rather large snitch down there…_

OoOoOoOoO

Hermione sat in her dorm room staring at her wand. She had only been trying to help Ron, trying to help the team avoid an abrasive teammate… How did it all go so wrong?

She had tried to levitate McLaggen when he fell, but her hand had been shaking and her spell had missed. Harry had been watching, but hadn’t been able to pull his wand in time. Katie had tried to physically catch him, but he fell faster than she could dive. Everyone else had been either not paying attention or too surprised to try to help.

_“…instantaneous death from a broken neck…”_

_“…didn’t suffer…”_

_“…small amount of magical residue, but nothing identifiable…”_

_“…intentional jump? He never showed signs of being suicidal…”_

_“…really unlucky to die from a fall of that height. Just landed wrong…”_

Phrases drifted in and out of Hermione’s head as she stared at her wand. She had caused an accident… no, she had killed someone with this. It was an accident, to be sure, but she had done it nonetheless. Maybe Malfoy was right. Maybe she didn’t deserve her magic.

She placed her hands on either side of the wand, flexing it slightly. It would be so easy to snap it, to leave Hogwarts, to go back to being a Muggle. It was no more than she deserved, less really. She should be in Azkaban. She should be kissed by a Dementor. She should be punished for this, but she just couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone. She could punish herself though…

Hermione flexed her arms…

* * *

 

_Regarding Schoolyard Jinxes_

Harry fired three more Stunners at the Death Eaters flying after him. They all rolled and dodged, but it slowed them enough that Hagrid’s motorbike was able to keep ahead of their superior brooms.

One of the Death Eaters’ hood fell back, and Harry noticed that it was Stan Shunpike with a strangely blank expression on his face. That didn’t stop Stan from raising his wand towards Harry again, and Harry knew that he’d have to fight back, Imperious-victim or not.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” Harry shouted. His charm managed to catch Stan mid-cast, and the man’s wand flew out of his hand. Stan’s other hand, which had been steering his broom, released as well. Stan himself was pushed backwards by the spell. It wasn’t a strong push, as Harry hadn’t put a whole lot of power into the spell, but it was enough to send him tumbling off his broom.

The other Death Eaters ignored their fallen conscripted member, and most resumed hurling curses at the sidecar, forcing Harry to shield. He watched in horror as Stan’s tumbling form struck the ground.

Then Harry’s scar burned with pain.

* * *

 

_Regarding Revolving Doors_

Harry was slithering along the stone floor. He saw a man, covered in a cloak, but still visible to Harry’s eyes. Oh how he longed to bite him, but he had his mission, and it required stealth.

But now the man was moving, drawing a wand and pointing it at Harry. Harry rose up and struck… slamming his face into the unyielding stone wall. The man had disappeared, vanished into insubstantiality.

_Portkey…_ a voice in Harry’s mind hissed, but Harry ignored it. There was blood in his mouth, and one of his fangs may have snapped, but it was of no consequence. He had to complete his mission. He slithered up to the door, stymied, temporarily, by his current lack of hands. However, constricting his rougher scales around the knob provided him with sufficient friction to turn it. The door opened and then shut again after Harry slithered inside.

The room blurred into motion as the doors and lights on the wall spun around, disorienting Harry completely. He waited for the walls to slow, but they showed no signs of doing so. The torches continued to appear as a single line of light. Harry felt his excitement change to anger, and he slithered closer to the blur of light and texture.

He touched the blur with the tip of his tail. It was immediately smacked away by something on the wall. Apparently the motion was not just an illusion. Harry hissed the activation phrase to the Portkey strapped to his neck, but nothing happened.

The walls seemed to be moving faster now, Harry’s disorientation increasing alongside his anger. He tried again, attempting to grab onto a torch bracket with his tail and lift his body off the ground. Harry was picked up and thrown across the room, with at least a few vertebrae broken.

Five minutes, several hissed activation words, one more attempt at grabbing the wall, and an unbelievable amount of pain later, the walls appeared to slow down. Harry lifted his head and attempted to slither towards one of the doors when another of them opened. He caught a glimpse of several robed figures before multiple red lights struck him.

Harry jerked upright, dripping with sweat and breathing hard. He jumped out of bed, and immediately fell over before throwing up.

OoOoOoOoO

“Bode informed them that they apprehended the intruder, but would need to investigate the extent of the intrusion and determine any compromised information before remanding the intruder to Auror custody,” the portrait of Everard Beazley reported.

“Looks like the Unspeakables just found themselves a new test subject,” Arthur said grimly. “Well they’re welcome to it. That snake was too bloody big for my taste.”

“I suppose that Voldemort investigating the Department himself was too much to hope for,” Dumbledore said. “However, a very important piece of his has now been captured, so we shall be able to consider this mission a success.”

“I’m just glad I noticed it coming in time. I was looking for something a little more person-sized, and the snake didn’t trip the detection ward on the hallway.” Arthur shivered and muttered, “Snakes. Why does it always have to be snakes?”

“Yes, excellent work, Arthur. Please inform Mundungus that he will not need to appear for his shift. I daresay that the lack of late nights will not go unappreciated amongst the rest of the Order as well.” Dumbledore thought for a moment, before saying, “We could both probably do with some rest. I will communicate with Professor Croaker in the morning about the eventual disposal of his newest research sample.”

Arthur nodded and headed for the fireplace. Left unvoiced was his thought, _I’m amazed it worked. I still can’t believe Voldemort thought that the Order thought that they could guard the Department of Mysteries better than the Unspeakables could._

* * *

 

_Regarding Deadly Weapons_

Black was sprawled at the bottom of the wall. His thin chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched Harry walk slowly nearer, the wand clenched in his hand pointed straight at Black’s heart.

“Going to kill me, Harry?” Black whispered.

“Yes,” Harry whispered back, determination and anger glinting in his eyes. He raised his wand, and paused for several moments. A look of frustration passed over his face and he slashed his wand down, yelling, “ _Expelliarmus!_ ”

The Disarming Charm took Black by surprise, and knocked his head back into the floor. However, since he was holding nothing, there was no other effect.

“Oww…”

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” Harry cast again with even more power, knocking Black’s head back from where he had lifted it to inspect the lump. “ _Everte Statem! Expelliarmus! Flipendo!_ ”

Black was remaining as flat as possible, transmitting the magically induced forces through him directly into the floor. Harry was panting now from casting so many spells, and Black’s lips quirked.

“Stop bloody laughing!” Harry shouted. “ _Petrificus Totalus!_ ”

“Umm… Harry?” Hermione said tentatively.

“Get me a rock,” Harry growled. “I’ll bash his head in by hand. Stupid, bloody professors, not teaching spells to use on mass murderers who betrayed your family…” Harry continued muttering imprecations against the school as he cast about, looking for a sufficiently heavy bludgeoning implement.

“I would be sorry you feel that my classes have not adequately prepared you for the real world, Mr Potter,” a voice said from the open doorway, “but I think that, in this case, it is for the best.”

Harry gasped and turned around. “Professor Lupin!” he yelped. Black, though only his eyes could move, looked visibly relieved. “I… we were… we caught Sirius Black!” Harry said, clearly seizing on the obvious.

“So I see. But it seems that you have caught someone else as well.” Lupin closed the door before turning to Black and ending the jinx, though he kept his wand pointed at him. “Where is he?”

“That boy had him,” Black said, indicating Ron.

“What? I have who now? All I’ve got is a bloody broken leg!” Ron exclaimed.

“Of course, it’s so obvious now. You switched without telling me, or anyone.” At Black’s nod, Lupin continued, “Ron, do you think I could have a look at that rat?”

“What? What’s Scabbers got to do with…” Ron trailed off, patting his pocket. “Little bugger ran off anyway, not that I blame him…”

“No!” Black shouted, lunging to his feet.

“ _Flipendo!_ ” Harry called, knocking the convict back down again. “What?” he said in response to Hermione’s stare.

“Yes, thank you, Harry.” Professor Lupin said tersely. “ _Homenum Revelio,_ ” he incanted, and a shadowy wave of magic washed through the walls. Lupin’s attention snapped to the door, an incredulous expression on his face. “He’s only just outside? Why didn’t he run?” he whispered. The professor strode over and opened the door, wand at the ready.

Crookshanks sauntered into the room, a grey rat dangling from his mouth. He deposited the gift at Black’s feet and began cleaning his face, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Black cautiously sat up, and, when Harry didn’t immediately curse him, inspected Scabbers. “Alive, but a broken back. Can’t move his hind paws.”

“See!” Ron exploded, grimacing as his sudden movement jarred his broken leg. “That cat’s a monster! It can’t even kill him quickly; he’d rather torture poor Scabbers!”

Hermione looked extremely confused about the whole situation as Ron ranted at her. Lupin and Black looked at each other.

“You explain,” Black said, lying back down on the floor with a vindictive smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> White Squirrel has a similar one-shot to Monologuing if you want something a little longer from that scene (on FFN, story ID 10867746).
> 
> Serendipitous Events made use of the commonly-used fanon idea that Dumbledore made the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey to take the champion out of the maze. Crouch was able to adjust the destination of an existing Portkey of the Headmaster’s, but not make a Portkey of his own that would escape the wards.
> 
> I was really tempted to title that section “And the Triwizard Champion is…”.
> 
> Ash Mitelaka•hat Bet•vok Habi•rad – a poor, and likely inaccurate, attempt at a phonetic translation of a passage in the Hebrew bible. It is supposed to mean “fire amidst the hail”, and describes the Seventh Plague on Egypt. The original text is below:  
> אֵשׁ מִתְלַקַּחַת בְּתוֹךְ הַבָּרָד


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